


It's Been a Long Road

by orphan_account



Series: End of the Line [1]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Innuendo, M/M, No Smut, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 06:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19167331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Random-ish oneshots taking place with Enterprise's favourite couple: Malcolm and Trip! Most of these oneshots will be fluffy, with cuddling of course, but some will be darker and put strain on Malcolm's and Trip's relationship. Each oneshot is only a few hundred words long each, and most can be read in any order except for the ones that are connected in multiple parts.- (Not my best summary, but I hope you all enjoy this series nonetheless)





	1. A Certain Appeal

"No, you're s'posed to put it the other way, Malcolm."

Malcolm fiddled with the little orange piece of plastic, scrutinising it. "I  _don't_  get it," he repeated for the hundredth time. "The instructions clearly show it goes on this way-"

"Ya said that already," Trip interrupted. "But it's not fittin', so you're not puttin' it on right. Or maybe ya got the wrong piece... Lemme see." The instructions sheet crackled noisily as he picked it up. He studied it for a moment, then told the Brit, "Yeah, ya got the wrong piece, Malcolm."

Malcolm let out a little growl of annoyance. "Wonderful. So now I have to dig around in that mess of plastic again just to find the right piece. Why do I let you talk me into idiotic activities like this?"

"I dunno, cuz ya love me?"

"True," Malcolm replied, clawing through the pile of Legos on the floor. "You Americans have a certain... appeal."

Trip laughed. "Like us buildin' stuff outta pieces of plastic?" Malcolm didn't give the Southerner the pleasure of a response, instead still searching for the piece he needed. He triumphantly pulled it out.

"Found it!" Malcolm declared, grinning.

Trip clapped his hands in an amused applause. "Bravo, Lieutenant! Bravo!"

Malcolm rolled his eyes and handed the small ship he was building to Trip. "Alright, it's your turn, love."

"Why, thank you, Stinky," Trip quipped, taking the small ship from him. He took a look at the instructions, then searched the pile for the piece he needed. "How much longer do ya think we have 'fore our next shift?"

Malcolm glanced over at the computer on his desk. "About another half hour."

"Ya know what we need?" Trip asked. Malcolm shook his head no. "A vacation. A week-long shore leave. Just us two, not worryin' 'bout anythin' except what martinis we're gonna order."

Malcolm flushed a bit at the thought. "A vacation would be nice. Would it be on another planet or back on Earth?"

"Preferably Earth, so we don't hafta worry 'bout what happened on Risa," Trip replied. "Hopefully." Malcolm hummed, then leaned his back against Trip's chest. Trip nuzzled Malcolm's neck. "Ya smell good this mornin'. Not stinky at all."

Malcolm chuckled, resting his head on Trip's shoulder. "How's it going in finding that next piece?"

"Still lookin'," Trip told him as he shuffled through the piles. "Maybe next time we should separate the pieces so we can find 'em quicker."

"I don't know," Malcolm said, a mischievous smile on his face. He brushed his lips against Trip's neck. "I'm rather  _enjoying_  this now."

"Ya enjoy pretty much anythin' that involves cuddlin'." Trip thoughtfully sniffed the tactical officer's hair. "Then again, I shouldn't be one to talk. I'm kinda enjoyin' this myself." He lifted up a Lego piece, studying it. "Ah, here it is! I found it!"

"Hmm." Malcolm snuggled closer to Trip. "We  _should_  do this more often."

"Ya got that right, Lieutenant. Now it's your turn to find the next piece."

~Fin.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is better with Legos. Also, I wrote this in a different document-type app, so let me know if there's anything wrong with the format (for example, words that are meant to be in italics may look like they have apostrophes around them.) I'm trying to get all of them as I revise, but no doubt I'll miss one or two in the future, so thank you, my dear readers, in advance.
> 
> Also, I wrote a whole bunch of these before I published this first one, so this will be getting a LOT of updates in a very short time.


	2. What I've Done, Part I

As he entered his quarters, Malcolm frowned when he didn't see Trip. Which was odd, because normally the engineer was there after his shift. The Brit pressed the button for the comm. "Lieutenant Reed to Engineering."

"Yes?"

"Is Commander Tucker in Engineering?"

"No, sir. He got off his shift an hour ago. Why?"

"Just wondering," Malcolm replied, carefully masking the concern in his voice. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir."

Malcolm lowered his hand and sighed. Where could the engineer possibly be, if not here? He wracked his mind for ideas. Maybe he was in the mess hall snitching pecan pies or something. Malcolm had suspected Trip was the culprit when the Chef reported several of his key lime pies had mysteriously went missing last month. The Brit started off towards the mess.

Normally the trip took only a few minutes, but for the tactical officer it felt like several hours had gone by. "Please be there, please be there," Malcolm repeated under his breath over and over. When he opened the doors to the mess hall, the lights were off and the room seemed empty. But his sixth sense told him otherwise. "Trip?"

A shuddering sigh came from the shadowy corner off to the right. Malcolm turned his head and squinted in the darkness. "Trip? Is that you?"

"Yeah," a slurred voice replied. "It's me." Malcolm moved towards the corner, his eyes slowly adjusting to see. Trip sat on the floor, his back against a wall, and a near-empty glass bottle in his arms. His eyes flicked up to the tactical officer, their normally bright blue dulled from the alcohol. "... Didn't wantcha to see me like this..."

"Oh, Trip..." Malcolm moved to sit beside the Southerner. "Why... why would you do this to yourself? And to hide it from me?" Trip looked down at his bottle, his face burning with what had to have been shame. Malcolm's heart twisted painfully. "Were you... afraid that if you told me, that I... would what? Leave you? Look down on you?"

"Please..." Tears fell from Trip's eyes. "Please don't..." Malcolm wrapped his arms around the engineer and pulled him into a hug. He didn't say a word. Trip finally let go and broke down into sobs, pressing his face into Malcolm's chest. "Ah don't wanna talk 'bout it. Just... please. Stay with me."

"Until my last breath," Malcolm murmured, pulling his distraught lover closer.

~To be continued...~


	3. Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little corny, but I then thought "What the hell" and hit the Publish button.

"Love, we just had movie night yesterday in the mess." Malcolm slung an arm around Trip's shoulders as they walked back to their quarters from a long day of boredom. It had been a while since the crew had done anything interesting, and aside from seeing a few nebulas up close... long story short, everyone was itching desperately for something interesting to happen. "I don't see why we need to watch another  _tonight."_

"Yeah, but we're gonna watch one anyway," Trip replied. "Ya been itchin' to blow stuff up all week- I'm 'fraid ya might get so desperate for explosions thatcha might decide to set the ship on self-destruct."

Malcolm chuckled at Trip's joke. "You know I wouldn't do that!"

Trip stifled a laugh as he kissed the Brit affectionately on the cheek. He then wrapped an arm around Malcolm's waist and asked, "So what'ya say, Stinky? Movie date, just you and me, with some fresh-ish popcorn and a couple'a bourbons?"

Malcolm grinned up at the Southerner. "Do you even have to ask? What  _are_  we watching anyway? Something with plenty of explosions, I hope."

"Eh... do explosions of  _laughter_  count?"

"I wouldn't think so. Is this another classic North American comedy?"

"Sorta," Trip admitted sheepishly. "But believe me- if ya love the  _Monty Python_  classics so much, you're gonna love this. Trust me."

"Well, even if I don't like the movie, I have plenty of snacks and cuddling to look forward to."

"Ya got that right." Trip opened the door to their quarters and soon afterwards, the couple were snuggled up on the bunk, the lights off, a popcorn bowl in Malcolm's lap, along with two bottles of bourbon. The computer screen lit up the room enough for them to see what they were doing. Malcolm was already digging into the popcorn, much to Trip's amusement.

"And ya call me a glutton," Trip teased. Malcolm shrugged nonchalantly, taking another handful of popcorn. The engineer laughed and then said, "Computer, play the movie  _Rat Race."_  Rat Race? Malcolm didn't know what to think of the title and briefly considered asking Trip what the heck it meant. He then decided not to question and instead cuddled closer, putting the popcorn bowl in the Southerner's lap.

"You better get some while you can, love," Malcolm told him, his eyes bright with amusement. Trip intertwined their fingers with one hand while scooping up popcorn with the other.

"Why thank you, Stinky," Trip replied, his mouth now full of popcorn. Malcolm didn't reply, instead resting his head on Trip's shoulder and gluing his eyes to the computer screen.

In spite of his previous concerns, Malcolm found himself thoroughly enjoying the film. It was utterly ridiculous, but that was why it was so funny. The Brit was glad he stopped eating the popcorn- he probably would have choked on it. He was almost in tears by the end of the film, his breathing short and trembling with laughter.

"You were right," Malcolm told Trip during the credits. "I enjoyed that immensely." Trip grinned at the Brit as he set the now-empty popcorn bowl and bourbon bottles on the floor.

"I toldja ya would," Trip said, grinning. He shuffled in the blankets, laying back in the bed. Malcolm snuggled up with him, placing his head on the Southerner's chest. He traced his fingers along the wrinkles in Trip's uniform thoughtfully. "Somethin' botherin' ya, Mal?" Trip asked.

"I just wonder if we'll have our own happy ending," Malcolm replied softly, interlocking his fingers with Trip's. "Think about it- we could die any day now. When we joined Starfleet, we didn't join thinking it was going to be all peaches and cream. We knew the risks." He looked at their hands, pausing. "I'm just... you're all I really have, Trip. I don't want to lose you. I don't... I don't know what I'd do if you..."

"Malcolm. Look at me." The tactical officer lifted his head to look at Trip. "Mal, ya know I love ya, right?" Malcolm nodded silently in response. Trip continued, "And we both know we ain't gonna be 'round f'ever. Life just doesn't work like that. Which means one of us is gonna die 'fore the other. One of us is gonna eventually be alone. But ya know what? I wanna focus on what we have right now. And I'd rather spend the time I've got left bein' with you and doin' stuff together that we enjoy rather than waste it all worryin' 'bout how you or I might die. I love ya, Mal. And I wanna spend every second I got left with you."

Malcolm smiled at Trip's words. "I love you too, Trip. And I want to spend every second I have left with you." He buried his face back in the Southerner's chest, taking in the moment.

Trip wrapped his arms around the smaller man's frame, nuzzling his hair. "Glad to hear it, Stinky. Now go to sleep. The cap'n will have our heads if we show up in the mornin' lookin' like we got raccoon eyes. And that's an order, Lieutenant."

Malcolm burst out laughing. "Yes, sir!"

~Fin.~


	4. Illogical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might need a little more revising later. Hope you still like it, though.

T'Pol didn't know what to think when it came to human mating rituals. Even more so when it came to the mates humans chose. Usually Vulcans chose mates who were the best match for them- similar opinions, interests, etc. In other words, even when it came to mates, Vulcans were always logical.

Which was why T'Pol had no logical explanation as to why Trip and Malcolm were dating. The two couldn't be more different. Malcolm was shy, withdrawn, and had a pretty strong "follow-it-to-the-book" personality. Trip was confident, outgoing, and he often did things his way. Malcolm was pessimistic, Trip was optimistic. Malcolm had a preference for older literature and classic earth films, while Trip tended to be more fond of modern pastimes.

"You're watching them again," Phlox said once while he and T'Pol were having lunch.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow at the Denobulan. "Humans are illogical in virtually everything that they do- I find it astonishing that they have come as far as they have." She tilted her head towards Trip and Malcolm. Trip was laughing as Ensign Cutler proceeded to perform some ridiculous charade, while his lover looked on with disapproval. "They could _not_ be any more different. And yet... we Vulcans choose our mates using logic and reason. We choose those who have similar goals and interests. And Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed... they are _hardly_ the ideal couple."

"Perhaps not by _your_ standards," Phlox pointed out, munching on a bite of waffle. "But by human standards, it's perfectly normal. Yes, humans do choose those who have similar interests. But they also choose someone who can _still_ surprise them. Someone who they can continue to learn something new about every day. A relationship is no fun if it's all  _predictable_. When it comes to humans, it's often the differences and uncertainty that drive the romance. Not the similarities."

T'Pol looked skeptical. "I, for one, do not expect this so-called 'relationship' to last long."

"You would be surprised about the obstacles love can overcome."

"Love is an emotion, and therefore is illogical," T'Pol retorted, frowning at Phlox.

Phlox shrugged noncommittally. "Well, humans haven't exactly been known to be _logical_ , now have they?" To this, T'Pol had no answer. That, or she didn't feel like offering one. Which was perfectly fine with Phlox. "I don't suppose you'd like some of my waffles?" Phlox asked. "They really are quite good." The Vulcan ignored him, picking up her spoon and taking a sip of plomeek broth.

Denobulans were just as confusing as humans, unfortunately.

~Fin.~


End file.
